The Worst Pies In London
by Ava Nova
Summary: Victoria wants to give Plato a special, heartfelt gift. But what does he think is going on? For platoluvr08! R&R!


**A/N: See, platoluvr08? I finally got around to writing this. ^_^**

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"Thanks so much Jerrie! You have no idea how important this is to me!" Hey, I knew that voice!

I sped up slightly as I rounded the corner, to see a heavily blushing Jerrie. It took me a moment to realize the Victoria – my Queenfriend, Victoria – was hugging him so hard his eyes almost bugged out. The small brown bag next to them was totally unimportant to me; I was just trying to figure out what was going on. Was she cheating on me? Or was I just totally blowing everything out of proportion? And on my birthday too!

Vickie pulled away, smiling at the calico and picking up the bag, speeding out of the junkyard.

"Hey Mungo!" I called, jogging over to him.

Wow, I've never seen him get so nervous so fast before.

"uh- um, hey Plato… what's up?" He stuttered, his tail swishing nervously against the ground. '_That's not suspicious at all.'_ I thought sarcastically. Part of me was torn between being totally angry, or a total cry baby. I tried to force calm into myself.

"What was going on with you and Vic?" I asked nonchalantly.

"Uh, well, she asked me to get something for her, and I was just… giving it to her. It's absolutely nothing important. Nothing at all." He said, speeding of. I tried to stop my eye from twitching angrily as I stalked off in the direction Vickie had gone.

I wanted to hear if she said the same thing.

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"Eggs, flour, mince, parsley, it's all here!" I squealed excitedly, piling the ingredients out of the bag and onto my human's kitchen counter. I had left her cookbook open to the page I wanted.

I loved Plato, so I wanted to give him a special, heartfelt gift – his favorite food! Of course, I've never cooked before, but I could try.

"Okay," I said to myself, wiping my paws on my legs and reading the first words. "To make beef filling, place beef in a medium bowl." I nodded, tipping a heap of the meat into a bowl. I looked back into the book.

"add flour and toss to coat. Hmm." I tipped the flour bag over, and the flour poured out.

"Oh!" I cried, as the bowl overflowed. I tipped the flour back, spilling it all over the bench, and started scooping it out of the bowl. I was giggling hysterically, the flour covering me invisible with my coat. I tipped the meat over, covering it in flour. I left a flour trail behind me as I went back to the cookbook.

"Heat 2 tablespoons of oil in a medium heavy-based frying pan over medium-high heat." I looked over to the stovetop nervously. I was never good around flames. I pulled out the frying pan, dragging it in short bursts, and tried to tip the oil in. I simply coated myself in it, making a strange flour and oil mixture, which was claggy and stuck to my fur. I slipped off the bench, landing heavily onto the floor.

This was going to take a while.

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Okay, I was stopped about 50 times on the way to Vicky's. Cars, Jellicles, Pollicles, children, the whole lot! My life is a lot harder than you may think.

Of course, this just gave me more time to think over my predicament. I had lulled myself into a belief that this was all a misunderstanding, but a slight bubbling and sickness in my stomach kept the slight fear that she didn't love me anymore. I pushed through the cat door, and heard a ruckus in the kitchen. I snuck in, only to see Victoria struggling to pull something out of the human oven… which was still on!

"Vickie get offa there!" I yelled. She gasped noisily, falling to the floor. What appeared to be a pie followed after her. I ran over to her, checking her over.

"Are you okay? What were you thinking?" She sighed.

"Well, I asked Jerrie to bring me some ingredients so I could make you a pie for your birthday – cause it's your favorite and all – but I'm a horrible cook!" She cried. The beautiful, cool relief flooded through me. I looked at the pie, cringing inwardly.

"I'm sure it's not the bad…" I said unconvincingly. I moved forward to take a bite anyway.

"I wouldn't do that." She warned, but I did.

Stupidest decision I've ever made.

"Told you! I make the worst pies in London!" She cried, half sadly, half jokingly.

"It's the thought that counts." I recited, coughing slightly. She laughed, hugging me around the neck and nuzzling against my cheek.

"Love you, Plato."

"Ditto, sweets."

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**A/N: Awww! Adorable! I guess. Review!**


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